


Another Chance

by Malind



Category: Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: Angst, Dysfunctional Relationships, Falling In Love, Lust, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Rewrite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:34:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24112882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malind/pseuds/Malind
Summary: When the materia fell from the sky, surely it brought with it only rage, insanity, and the will to dominate. But, perhaps, there was something more. This is a rewrite of my story Reboot with Vincent/Sephiroth instead.
Relationships: Vincent Valentine/Sephiroth
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [God_of_Insanity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/God_of_Insanity/gifts), [Aijindaiku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aijindaiku/gifts).



> **About this rewrite:**
> 
> This is a rewrite of [Reboot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24031939). If you read that story and have no interest in reading the same basic storyline again, don't bother with this.
> 
> For this rewrite, I'm mostly editing the original, not completely rewriting it. The first 5 chapters were edited in 4/2017, so it's been a while since there was a chapter added. New chapters will be added as I finish editing them. 
> 
> The main pairing is now Vincent/Sephiroth instead of Sephiroth/Cloud. In turn, the story will be adjusted accordingly, including Vincent now being the main character in place of Cloud. I'll probably also be removing the gratuitous sex I put in the middle of the original and make this a slow burn instead. I'll know better what I want to do with those parts when I get to them.
> 
> **Finally, here is the background I included with the original version of this story:**
> 
> I've been reading up on Final Fantasy VII's unused lines hidden in the game code. There's a part in the Temple of the Ancients that gave me a muse I decided to try out.
> 
> Sooo, this story comes from the idea that materia is a part of something that once lived. When the being died, a part was condensed down into usable materia, instead of completely returning to the lifestream. This, in turn, allows a person to use whatever powers/abilities/knowledge are contained within the materia. In the case of summons, which probably capture more of the being than usual, there's a physical presence as well.

Vincent Valentine was lying on the bed, his fingers maneuvering the white orb just a bit larger than the marbles the children played with out on the sidewalks. He turned it this way and that, capturing the sun's light streaming through the lace-curtained windows in its milky glow. With the added light, the orb became iridescent, as if playing with the colors found within the light. By itself however, the orb was just white, a purer white than any man-made light could hope to create.

Power flowed within the small enclosure, keeping away from his mind as much as it begged for release. The materia's odd behavior, which Vincent sensed whenever he concentrated on the orb, was what held him back from seeing what was contained within. Well, that, and the fact that he was nearly certain he knew what was within.

But Vincent doubted Sephiroth would have willingly put his whole being into such a small object the gunman could have just as well thrown away as saved it. Perhaps the Lifestream had forced Sephiroth into a trap, unwilling to allow him even the possibility of creating another Geostigma, more remnants, or perhaps something even worse.

Weeks before, Cloud had told him what Sephiroth had proclaimed, that Sephiroth would never be a memory. And, after Kadaj had fallen to the ground, considering what had also fallen off of the roof of the building, landing near Vincent, well, perhaps Sephiroth had been telling the truth, even if Sephiroth hadn't meant it in that particular way.

Vincent rolled the orb until it was between his forefinger and thumb. Crimson eyes attempted to look into it, to reveal its mysteries with a simple stare.

_To hope for you to be just a memory, to hope to be able to finally forget all of this... Forget about you... It's why I came back to this forsaken place, to set things right, to forget. ...For fuck's sake, you were finally supposed to be even less than a memory..._

Vincent couldn't help tensing his jaw. Had it ever been that simple with Sephiroth, with any of them, that he could just will Sephiroth, Lucrecia, or Hojo away from his daily thoughts and raw nightmares?

No, never. But he still had to try. Again. For the sake of his sanity, if he had any left at that point.

The gunman pocketed the large bead, stood up, returned his gun to the holster at his hip that had been lying on the side table. Then he headed towards the door, sweeping on his new cape before it billowed behind him with his long strides, the cape that Tifa had insisted on purchasing to replace the tattered sight of his old one, one he'd had for decades, one that had practically walked on its own despite its decay.

He'd been staring at the materia for weeks and was tired of it. So fucking tired of it.

There was really only one way to end this stalemate of sorts, as if fate would let him have an end. However, he wasn't about to summon whatever was inside the materia around other people. Whatever came out of it, it was better the general public, including Cloud and the others of the household, didn't know about it.

Vincent jumped from rooftop to rooftop. He absentmindedly noted the people around him, rebuilding what Sephiroth and his remnants had destroyed weeks before. He knew he should have been helping them, but, unable to be around people he'd have to pretend he wanted to talk to while he dealt with their covert and not-so-covert stares, he'd instead volunteered for patrol duty. But today was his day off. But days off only meant he had more time to think out what was usually hidden away for sake keeping in the dresser in the room Tifa and Barret provided for him for the time being.

Really, he should have thrown the damn thing away, but he...

Underneath everything, including his bitter desire for some peace, the ex-Turk wanted Sephiroth to have the chance the world had never allowed him in life. He wanted Sephiroth to be the man Lucrecia had surely wanted him to be underneath her own madness. The man Cloud talked about at times, when the swordsman cracked after downing a few beers and became unable to contain memories that brought tears to sky-blue eyes.

To the world, even to his enemies, even to Cloud, especially to Cloud, Sephiroth had been a god even before he'd tried to be one. Vincent wanted Sephiroth to be that same man, for everyone.

But it was foolish to think the materia held in his pocket could contain the man Sephiroth had been before Nibelheim.

However, on the brighter side, if there was such a side, if Sephiroth wasn't sane, if Sephiroth really had been reduced to a summon, Vincent was certain he could now control Sephiroth in ways that would probably make the man insane and bent on death, if he wasn't already. And, if Vincent was honest with himself, he knew such control would make Sephiroth hate him, if he didn't already, despite them not really knowing one another.

The former commander would become the tool he'd been in life, except now, he'd have no real say in whatever his existence could now be considered. It wasn't a life, well, then again, Materia was the essence of life, but it was life inside of a permanent cage.

After nearly a half an hour, jumping off of a partially standing structure in front of the dilapidated church, his booted feet slammed onto the ground as he landed with little of his usual grace. He knew he probably shouldn't have chosen this spot, one where Aeris' presence seemed to be forever permeating every piece of wood, every window, every molecule of air. Or perhaps, more realistically, he just imagined her presence. But it was also for that very reason that he'd chosen it, hoping it'd distill in him some kind of peace before he did the unthinkable.

And, already knowing that probably wasn't going to work, he also attempted to will himself to not think about what he was about to do, lest he change his mind. God, he should have just changed his mind...

Vincent stalked past the permanently open front door of the church. Inside, the pool still rested where he'd been told a flowerbed had once been, bubbling up from some unknown place, perhaps from the Lifestream itself. He doubted it would ever leave. They'd have to build over it if they wanted it gone, visibly at least.

His strides slowed as he walked up to the crystal clear water. If the sphere in his pocket had been so clear, perhaps he could have seen what was inside, instead of being forced to see what hid inside the only other way he could: by summoning it.

Fingers, Vincent couldn't stop from trembling slightly, picked the materia out of his pocket. When he finally held it before himself, he found he didn't have the will to call on it, rather refused to have it. The gunman had to acknowledge, not for the first time, that he was scared. He didn't want this small, ill-conceived experiment to be a failure. He didn't want to see anymore hate in Sephiroth's eyes. He...

...He just wanted the man to have another chance.

Growling under his breath, Vincent squeezed the orb until his hand hurt. Then, he let a small bit of his mind go to the materia. The power that pressed back at him, burning at him, took his remaining breath away before he stopped the summoning. He sucked back in a breath and, already drained, mentally at least, ungracefully plopped down on the rubble-ridden ground.

"God..."

Suddenly he wasn't sure he wanted to control this power. Was he really the right choice for this? Surely he wasn't. Surely someone else should have done it. But then again, who would dare, outside of someone who wanted death and destruction?

"Yeah, get the mentally unstable, demon-possessed loner brandishing a shitload of regrets to do it..." He huffed a humorless bit of laughter, despite the fact that he knew this was no laughing matter. But, Good God, he needed to laugh or the stress would drive him insane.

A minute later, when his breathing had calmed a bit, Vincent closed his eyes and forced himself to steady his breath even more. He let his mind caress the materia he held in his iron grip. This time, the awareness of power didn't hit him quite as hard. And, when the power surged out like a breath of air, he opened his eyes.

A swirling black cloud formed overhead, blocking out the sun steaming in through the hole in the ceiling of the church. The cloud spread until none of the ceiling could be seen. In the middle, a speck of light appeared. The speck grew into a ball that tried to blind his eyes. As the ball grew, it stretched and quickly Vincent could pick out the shape of a man, clothed in blackness. A single white wing flung out from the man's body, chasing away the clouds, letting the day flood light down around him. Sephiroth floated above him, beyond his reach. The sight made Vincent's breath catch. Surely, if anyone could have been considered a god, this man was one.

Calm, aquamarine, cat-like eyes watched him, waiting, and Vincent realized how harsh his breathing had become. He tried to calm it back down as he stood up. His upheaval wasn't just from the beauty he saw before him, but also the power he knew this man, no, creature possessed. Vincent could feel that power pounding into himself, coursing through his body, begging for release. He surely felt this power far more than Sephiroth who apparently merely waited for an order.

Why had the Lifestream allowed Sephiroth to keep this much power? If it was trying to cage him, shouldn't it have stripped him of it? That would have only made sense. This...

This bordered on madness. But, as the Lifestream rarely failed to surprise him, Vincent knew he shouldn't bother trying to come to conclusions when he'd probably never know the truth.

When the summon floated down suddenly, Vincent took a step back, but then realized some subconscious part of himself had probably willed it when Sephiroth then stopped again.

The summon never took his eyes off of his face. Perhaps that was because Vincent stared back. Had Sephiroth become merely a mirror image? The thought left him with little hope that Sephiroth could indeed be given another chance.

"Don't come to conclusions. Not yet," the gunman whispered to himself.

Then quiet feet landed in front of him. Vincent couldn't bring himself to move. Instead he looked over the man who'd attempted to destroy the world on a couple of occasions. Sephiroth wore the same black armor he'd worn when he'd been a man, the same when Vincent has assisted in killing the child of his lover for the second and perhaps final time. The stillness of the man's graceful form unnerved him. He'd never seen Sephiroth so still. Was he thinking?

Vincent frowned and took a step forward. The slightly-taller, silver-haired summon merely watched him, although Sephiroth's head did bend down a fraction of a bit the closer Vincent got.

"Sephiroth?" Vincent cringed slightly at the word since it seemed abnormally loud.

Then the gunman lifted an unsure hand up and let it hover a few inches from the summon's face. He'd never touched the man in real life, Sephiroth always being in front of his gun. Admittedly though, in Vincent's darkest, most perverse moments, after hearing Cloud's stories about him, Vincent had thought about it, but surely Sephiroth would have much sooner slaughtered him before ever allowing even just a simple touch from the gunman. And, as an added bonus, those thoughts had brought out a new disgust for himself that Vincent could only add to the lump sum.

Sephiroth had been a science experiment, a SOLDIER, a lunatic, and a destroyer, but had he ever been a lover or even the least bit into what was between his own legs? No, from what he'd heard of the man, it wasn't farfetched to think that Sephiroth may have been a virgin in life.

"Sephiroth..." The gunman couldn't bring himself to say it. Think it, yes, and recoil from those retched thoughts just as quickly, but never say it. He let his hand drop, shaking his head, sending raven locks swinging over his eyes with the harsh movement.

Holding a breath, Vincent took another step towards the beautiful man, trying to get some type of reaction. Anything. But there was nothing.

Vincent knew he should have willed Sephiroth away instead of participating in this staring contest. He should have done a lot of things, but he couldn't bring himself to do any of them. He just couldn't accept that there wasn't a chance. There had to be a chance. Right? Otherwise, what was the point of bringing the materia to his feet? A wicked joke from the Lifestream? Yeah, that could have been it...

Perhaps, now, Sephiroth simply was a shell, a tool to be used. Clearly the Lifestream had no love for this man before him, not the same kind of protective love he'd felt since this man had been a baby inside of his mother.

"Sephiroth..." he whispered, not yet ready to let go, knowing, if he was to live with himself any longer, he had to give this more than a chance, and lifted his hand once again. With the man less than a foot away, the touch would have been easy, yet his hand merely hovered above where Sephiroth's heart should have been.

Vincent held his breath and reached.

When his fingers touched the summon's chest, his mind flashed white before thoughts, memories, and their retched emotions flooded through his mind so fast, tearing his limited sanity apart. Then, somehow, he realized hands were on him, grabbing his arms in harsh, bruising grips that made him cringe.

"What are you..."

As he heard it, he swore the voice was Sephiroth's. The hands left him, and he felt his body collapse to the ground but couldn't stop it from happening. Then he knew no more.


	2. Chapter 2

The church had grown darker by the time he awoke. Vincent lifted his head, then his torso, looking around, rubbing off the rubble that had found a home on the side of his face. It only took him a few seconds to realize where he was, but a bit longer to remember why he was there. Raven hair cut the air as he jerked his head, searching for Sephiroth. Then Vincent gritted his teeth when he realized he was utterly alone.

_Wait, the materia._

Again, he searched on the ground, in the billows of his cape, getting up on his knees when he couldn't find it right away. Then a glimmer in the water caught his eye. He crawled the short distance and plucked the white marble out.

Then, after he'd done it, he had the urge to put it back in, and perhaps push it so that it would roll to the center and be forgotten in the depths.

As if he could ever forget. Nor could he chance another person finding it.

No, if he was going to be rid of the thing, he'd have to find a better hiding place. But no obvious places came to mind, which was a worthless effort anyway since he knew in the depths of his brutalized heart that he could never merely let it go, not while knowing what was inside. Instead, he took to studying it once again as he sat back on his heels.

In the evening light, it glowed eerily, but no more strangely than the mako permeating his own eyes, Hojo having spared him from no experiment decades before. Then, curious, well, wanting, he traced the curve of the materia with his mind and found the same power that had been there before: Sephiroth in his cage.

Trying to understand everything, Vincent strained to remember every detail of what had happened after the summoning. He remembered the touch, the light, and the pain, both mental and physical.

And he remembered the voice.

Sephiroth had spoken when Vincent had been nearly certain that there was no chance he ever could. Had it been his touch? Or...

An even worse possibility: Perhaps it had been Vincent's mind. Perhaps Sephiroth seen what Vincent had seen in those few moments before his mind had given out. Vincent knew, thanks again to Hojo, that Jenova cells lived inside of him, a disease his body couldn't rid itself of. Considering the communication those cells were capable of, it wasn't so far fetched to think Sephiroth had seen, even felt both Vincent's best and worst memories in those few seconds.

His gut churning with the possibilities, the gunman stood up, trying to figure out what to do. What the hell was he supposed to do? What could even remotely make sense at that point?

He wanted to throw the thing away about as much as he wanted to summon the man again to stand in front of him. But to have Sephiroth standing there, speaking to him, perhaps knowing Vincent far more than the gunman had ever wanted Sephiroth to...

The memory of the voice chilled him as much as it heated him with far too many unwanted emotions, leaving him lukewarm.

Searching for an answer externally because, internally, his was in such an uproar, Vincent looked to the darkening sky through the torn apart roof. It was then that his real responsibilities, or, at the very least, his living responsibilities, forced their way back into his mind.

Weeks before, at Tifa and Barret's relentless urgings, Vincent had accepted a room in the home where Cloud, Tifa, Barret, and the children resided. At least for the time being. And, for some reason Vincent didn't want to explain to himself, he usually didn’t stray for long.

As such, they were probably wondering where he was by now. He knew he should have gone back and forgotten about all of this. Playing around with a dead man wasn't good for anyone's health, his included. Well, especially his since he had to go about this alone. But he couldn't will his feet to move.

But, God, Sephiroth spoke…

His body no more settled than it had been a minute before, the swordsman's words repeated in his mind: 'What are you...'

Doing? Good question. What the hell was he doing? He should have just gone home to them...

Never mind his own ravaged mind; Tifa would had beat the crap out of him if she'd caught him tempting a devil in the guise of a god.

'Remember,' she'd say, 'Remember what he did to us, to our families, to everyone!'

As if he could ever forget the death and chaos created by Lucrecia's child.

Nonetheless, even though Vincent understood Tifa’s hate, truly he did, if Sephiroth couldn't be forgiven, then how could any of them be? Especially Vincent himself who could have stopped all of this the moment it'd started thirty-two years before. Blood was on all of their hands, and they all had their excuses that still made none of it right. He had no real right to judge anyone besides himself.

And, whether or not the world understood or accepted it, Vincent had every right to strive for Sephiroth’s soul, and, in turn, perhaps bring some peace to his own.

After blowing out a huff of air and an accompanying growl at the thoughts, his hand lifted, placing the materia directly in his field of vision. Sephiroth had spoken... Was he in there now, staring out at him? Raging? Hating him for trapping him? Would Vincent be able to reason with the man and make him understand that, really, none of this had been his idea?

Or, for that matter, make Sephiroth understand the fact that, truly, Vincent had just wanted to forget everything, every mistake he’d ever made in his far-too-long life that was probably never going to end? Then again, would either of them have believed those words, that Vincent was even capable of forgetting?

His pulse hammering at the long train of thoughts that were leading nowhere really, Vincent closed his eyes once again and forced himself to calm down, his arm dropping to his side.

He shouldn't have done this… If Sephiroth was now aware somehow, or worse, aware even now while locked inside of the materia, he'd managed to make Sephiroth's life unbearably horrible.

But maybe Sephiroth wasn't aware. And perhaps the man's voice had been a figment of his imagination. If only that could be true...

Or perhaps, even if Sephiroth was aware, he wasn't aware at this moment, but rather in a kind of sleep.

But the gunman would never know for sure unless he summoned Sephiroth again.

At a stalemate, he sat back down ungracefully, ran his claw harshly through his hair, and stayed there for nearly a half an hour, barely seeing the steadily growing darkness surround him as he debated his own mind.

If this was Sephiroth's new existence, forced to depend on the will of another to extend beyond the sphere's small borders... Would Vincent himself even have the strength to give Sephiroth what he needed to live a semi-decent life? If Vincent tried, would the world let him offer it to the man they hated or crush them both under their heels for trying?

Maybe he could destroy the materia somehow and release Sephiroth from his prison. Or would that destroy the summon as well?

_God, what am I supposed to do?_

But, even if he did know, would he have strength to do what he needed to do?

To hold the life of someone - a person who held an unwilling place in Vincent's heart - in the palm of his hand was overwhelming to say the least.

Vincent gritted his teeth together, gripping the orb in his hand harder, then whispered through a tight throat, "Forgive me… I-I'm sorry I touched you..." He couldn't be sure whether the words were meant for Sephiroth or for himself. Probably for both of them, for all of them.

Even after the damning words, he couldn’t move. He should have just gone home.

Instead, he brought the materia up again and held the orb between two fingers, staring at it. It glowed beautifully, fluctuating slightly as if humming to music. The idea was more comforting than thinking they were silent screams.

Vincent closed his eyes and blew out a long breath. He couldn't avoid it any longer. It didn't make any sense to, because he knew he couldn't just get up and leave and forget.

The gunman gave the glowing orb his will, providing it the strength to release what was contained within the miniature prison. He lifted his head and observed the spectacle he'd created.

This time, there was no grand entrance, perhaps because, with Vincent being a bit calmer and at least partially knowing what to expect, he wasn't unconsciously willing distance and feeding Sephiroth with a concoction of fear and regret. The ball of light formed a few feet away in front of him, growing as it took shape. This time, there was no whooshing of a wing. And then Sephiroth floated in front of him.

After the light became bearable, Vincent stopped squinting and watched the man look down at him. When Sephiroth frowned at him, then glowered, Vincent suddenly realized he should have palmed his gun. Why hadn't he?

Oh yeah, because he could control Sephiroth. Right?

Sephiroth's feet landed. Then long legs took a step before he stopped, the glower becoming something far worse.

Had Vincent stopped him? He couldn't be sure.

Sephiroth's face drove battle-heat into Vincent’s body, making his breaths grow heavier. Vincent bolted to his feet.

Then, Vincent could feel something different in the materia's power: a fight, but a weak one. Vincent knew for certain then that it wasn't his own strength that controlled the man directly. Sephiroth had far more fight in him than this.

"Sephiroth..."

Vincent wanted to say, 'Don't fight it,' but it was a cruel thing to say, cruel to take away a man's hope for freedom. After all, Vincent would have fought as well.

Sephiroth's gaze lowered to Vincent's hand, to the materia he held. Much of the rage left, although Vincent could still see some brewing. In its place appeared to be shock. The man seemed to realize his new position in life.

Sephiroth’s gaze jerked back up. "What... What have you done?" Instantly, he shook his head, looking away, looking around, perhaps looking for a way out. With the instant dismissal, Vincent knew Sephiroth didn't believe that Vincent was capable of such a feat. Then Sephiroth's eyes were drawn back to the marble, and then to Vincent's face. "You..."

Vincent realized the ex-SOLDIER couldn't move more than his head, not with Vincent's silent, unconscious, defensive hold on his body.

Vincent tried to calm himself down, to relinquish control, but it was difficult when he knew what the other man was capable of. Crimson eyes closed, and Vincent forced his breaths to slow, his heart to relax. His eyes flashed back open when he heard the metallic sound of Sephiroth's sword materialize. Then Sephiroth's motions stopped again, this time holding him in that position, instead of allowing him to come to a restful position.

Willing the sword away himself, wide-eyed, Vincent stared at the sight of the former General in his rage. It didn't matter whether or not Vincent had wanted to see Sephiroth's rage because it was coming off of him in waves either way. But it was different this time, perhaps because it seemed to be laced in fear.

Vincent consciously controlled his own breaths as he walked up to the summon, trying to prove a point. It was a point he was grateful for, but, at the same time, he would have relinquished his control in a heartbeat had he thought Sephiroth could control himself. He knew what it was like to be used and controlled by others. It was horrible.

Quietly, the gunman stated, "If you kill me, you'll go back inside. Killing me won't free you. Do you understand?"

For a moment, Vincent only had his own breaths to listen to. Sephiroth had none of his own. Then, Vincent could feel the fight fade. Cautiously, he forced himself to once again relinquish his hold.

Sephiroth's fighting stance dropped away. The man resorted to merely glaring at him, his fists flexing, his mind visibly raking through thoughts, probably trying to figure out how he could gain some type of advantage over the situation.

In the end, really, the only way Sephiroth could get anywhere with the gunman was by mind-fucking him. At the realization, Vincent tried to mentally prepare himself for it, again regretting all of this even if, at the same time, he knew he had to do it. But...

Really, what could either of them truly gain by doing this?

Well, he could find the man Sephiroth used to be, who still had to be in there, somewhere. And Sephiroth would just have to accept that Vincent was all he had, at least for the time being.

After a few seconds of brutal glaring, Sephiroth turned around and stalked away, but didn't bother going far. Then stillness overtook him. In the darkness, Sephiroth's whole body, well, glowed. The man would never be able to hide in darkness again. Then, over his shoulder, he growled, "Try not to enjoy this too much."

"Why would I ever enjoy this, Sephiroth?"

Sephiroth turned around slowly, glaring him, all of him, making Vincent tighten his own muscles. Then Sephiroth smirked. "I know what's inside of you. I know you would enjoy this."

Vincent gritted his teeth hard, wishing he didn’t understand the innuendo. He shook his head though, trying to denying it anyway, but the denial didn't go as far as his voice. If Sephiroth had indeed seen his thoughts, his memories, his emotions, the ones on the surface when Vincent had touched him, there was no point in denying them that much.

The smirk grew into a cold smile. "See?"

Vincent ground his teeth together, gripping harshly at the materia in his hand. "I'm not enjoying this. I'm only trying... I'm trying to..." He looked away, hiding his face from the man who brought out so many painful memories and emotions in him. "I'm trying to give you a chance."

"A chance? A chance at what exactly?"

It was a fair question. Truly, what kind of chance was this? For either of them.

Vincent growled, irritated and already so tired of all of this, but he couldn’t stop, not now, not unless he was absolutely sure there was no hope. "If you don't want it, Sephiroth, I have no problem putting you back where you belong."

Sephiroth glared at him again. Suddenly, Vincent could feel a building power bite at him and he reigned Sephiroth in with a thought.

Sephiroth growled right back at him, "This isn't a chance."

"A chance at what exactly?"

Sephiroth's glare grew before he looked away, lost in thought.

Watching him, Vincent tightened his grip on Sephiroth's cage. It was up to Sephiroth to reject or accept what he was offering.

Sephiroth huffed a laugh. "You should enjoy this, Valentine. I would be."

Vincent shook his head. "I'm not like that."

"Like me?"

"I'm nothing like you."

"Really?" Sephiroth smirked icely at him, tilting his head slightly, right before he strode up to Vincent, silver hair wicking like a flame behind him. Vincent couldn't help his reactive step backwards. A gloved hand swung up and hovered near his face. Vincent’s breath caught in his throat. Suddenly the hand moved closer and almost touched him. Vincent flinched.

"Not going to stop me?"

"I should."

"But?"

Vincent bristled, trying to control his emotions, his reactions. He was already done with this game. And that was what it was: a game. He'd expected mind-fucking but not of this type and that was probably his own fault, because of the feelings he'd long harbored for the swordsman against his own will. He wasn't supposed to feel this way about a monster.

After a shake of his head, the gunman muttered, "Sephiroth, I will never let you kill another soul as long as I live. Anything you think you could do to me, get it out of your head. I'm done watching people die. I'm done killing. And so are you."

After a moment, the summon's hand dropped. Then his teeth gritted as his arms crossed over his chest, probably to give himself the illusion of a distance he could no longer have, looking away.

Vincent added, hope and so much fucking regret in his heart, "Do you still want to continue this?"

Silver brows furrowed. Time suddenly seemed infinitely long, but it couldn't have been more than a few seconds before Sephiroth whispered, "Yes."

Vincent let out a breath and couldn't help but turn away and put a bit of welcome distance between them. "You're lucky I've always loved you. Otherwise this wouldn't even be happening," Vincent mumbled for his ears alone.


	3. Chapter 3

At Valentine's quiet words, Sephiroth knowing what he'd heard even with their distance, wishing he hadn't heard, Sephiroth leapt up and found a perch on the support beams that had once been part of a complete attic floor. He distanced himself because he knew the truth in the words, that Valentine believed them. That truth made him, well, want to retreat.

It was one thing to gain second hand knowledge of the fact that someone loved him. After all, he'd dealt with infatuation directed at himself before. It was quite another to see it play out in another man's head as if they were his own thoughts. It was why he hadn't touched the man moments before. He didn't want to risk seeing Valentine's thoughts again.

Surely, this, the whole of it, was fate mocking him for what he'd tried to do again hours... Days even? Weeks? Years? How could he know how much time had passed while locked inside of the materia?

With the passage of time now more or less a fleeting thought though, more importantly, how had fate come up with this particular... punishment?

Without even truly knowing the man, Sephiroth knew Valentine couldn't have made the materia that pulled on Sephiroth's every thought and action. Mankind could only make materia with machinery and time, lots of time, and exceptional circumstances. This hadn't been done by man.

But, in the end, that didn't matter to the way of things. Wherever the materia had come from, Valentine was now the one who possessed it. That was all that mattered. That, and figuring out how he could gain leverage over the situation.

Sephiroth glanced down and saw the older man looking up at him. It made insides tighten that didn't really exist.

With just a thought, Valentine could do things to him, make him do things... The knowledge brought out as much fear as rage. He was sure if he listened closely enough, he'd have been able to hear Aeris' laughter, the same kind of laughter he'd chased after her with when she'd fled from him in the Lifestream.

Surely there was another person who could take the materia from Valentine. Even as he thought it, the idea made him feel very real fear.

Who would do it for him? Who could he trust to do his will and not merely take advantage of the power he could still feel pulsing through him? As Valentine had already proven, Sephiroth had little sway in what he could and couldn't do with his own body.

It was a hell of a time to start regretting plans that would have resulted in the destruction of a civilization and all of the people in it, including Valentine who apparently thought he loved him.

Sephiroth raked a hand through his hair. It amused him, only slightly, that it still felt like hair, that his scalp still felt the tug. He was sure if he'd tugged harder, he would have felt pain. But it was fake pain. He knew he mostly likely couldn't die in this form. Surely, he could be called again and again, like any other summon.

Growling at the thought, memories of his past eroded any ill-conceived humor left in his mind. Memories of experiments, of pain, of people who had only seen him as an animal, a tool to be used. Only when he'd proven his use as a war machine, beyond being a mere oddity, did the scientists leave him alone, for the most part.

But back then, he'd had one thing going for him, although, in many ways, it had been a detrimental in itself: He'd been human. Or, at least, part human. Now, so restricted by the materia, he realized that for so long he'd forgotten all of that, all of his freedoms he'd had before he'd become so singleminded. He'd even forgotten what it'd felt like to be a man. But he was remembering all of it now and a time when he was farthest from being a man.

"Sephiroth... There's somewhere I must be. If I don't return home..."

The hesitancy in the other man's voice bubbled up anger. The last thing he wanted was Valentine's pity, although, to be honest, Sephiroth wasn't sure exactly where that probable pity was directed, not with the way Valentine avoided his eyes. Was it directed at him? Valentine himself? Both of them?

But that didn't truly matter, fore along with the anger came alarm.

Home? He'd never had a place he would have ever even remotely called a 'home,' not the kind of place Valentine obviously meant. The absurdity of the situation hit him. Was he simply to walk in Valentine's 'home' and say a hearty hello to the other residents, as if he hadn't tried to kill them all? He could still see their faces in his mind, faces from Valentine's memories. He knew Cloud, Tifa, and Barret, people Valentine had aided years ago, as well as one of the children Sephiroth had claimed with his stigma. The girl he didn't know and didn't care to.

Then the single word that should have already consumed his attention came to the front of his mind: Cloud.

Even if Cloud hadn't created the Materia either, he was still the cause of this. Never mind that Sephiroth, yet again filled with his own gigantically huge and apparently unreliable ego, had assumed he could beat the spikey-haired man. Sephiroth had toyed with Cloud, mocked him. He'd even thought he could win for once. Instead, he'd been destroyed, yet again, and by someone with such a weak mind and will.

So consumed with his irrational rage, he glared down at Valentine, who'd stayed quiet through all of his tormenting thoughts. Surely, the other man was having reservations about taking him 'home'. On the other hand, Sephiroth was suddenly raring to go. If he could face Cloud again, perhaps... 

How absurd his thoughts were. Sephiroth laughed at himself, a sound that cut the air, hopefully making it bleed. In fact, the whole of the situation was absolutely absurd. He had no more power, at least none that Valentine didn't give him. 

Faced with reality again, he almost preferred to go back inside the materia, but he dreaded the prospect of going back into the materia more.

When he was inside, he knew nothing of the outside world. It was a prison without walls, without form, and no one else inside. The time he'd spent in there after Valentine had probably gone unconscious had nearly driven him insane with the need to find something tangible. And worse, his time inside couldn't have been longer than a few hours judging by the stars in the sky. He couldn't imagine spending longer stretches.

Why hadn't he been aware before the moment Valentine had touched him? Then, Sephiroth realized he wasn't supposed to be this way. Whatever had trapped him hadn't meant him to feel, to know. It was Valentine who had done this.

He looked back down at the other man and had to fight the useless urge to attack the other man, to release his rage to a satisfying end. He didn't bother, even if he could have attacked the other man, because Valentine was right: he'd go back inside the materia, and there was the chance he'd never come back out. The thought terrified him.

There had to be a way out of this. There had to be.

"Sephiroth..."

The said man hissed in a breath, a useless motion, but nonetheless a remnant of his past humanity. He wanted to avoid the situation as he hadn't done since he'd been a child in the lab, but he knew eventually Valentine would lose his patience.

He had to find a way out of this. He had to.

Cat-like eyes looked to the sky. Stars littered the darkness, lone objects separated by distance and time. But they still had each other, despite the distance. Him, on the other hand, he couldn't go back inside to nothingness, refused to.

Sephiroth brought his body back down to the ground, his feet landing as if he weighed nothing. He looked at Valentine who watched him quietly. Then he found himself mad at his own anger. His anger was pointless without the ability to do a thing about it, outside of scream. And he hadn't come to that point yet.

Valentine smiled weakly at him.

Then again... "If you give me one more sorry look, I swear to everything in existence that I'll find a way to beat you to death."

Raven brows flung upwards, then the other man let out a short-lived laugh, his smile truer. "I don't doubt that."

Sephiroth knew both Valentine and himself doubted the former commander's words, his ability to carry them out, but they helped him feel a little better.

Then Valentine was eyeing him, looking over his whole body, making him tense. The idea of the other man's 'love' for him came again to the forefront of his mind. If Valentine thought he was getting anywhere with him at that moment, he had another thing coming. Then again, could he stop him had he wanted to?

Unable to help himself, Sephiroth hissed, "What are you looking at?"

Crimson eyes met his. "Your appearance... You look like, well, Sephiroth."

"I wonder why."

"I mean, I can't take you back to them, not with you looking like this." His had flexed on the orb in his hand. "Perhaps you could go back in the materia. That way - "

"No!" Sephiroth could hear the fear in his own voice. It made him grit his teeth as soon as he'd said it.

Valentine's mouth closed and he frowned at him. After a moment, he said, "Okay... But I can't... I can't risk you hurting someone. If you do anything, I'll put you back inside."

Coarse anger eroded Sephiroth's mind, a fight or flight response. The gunman apparently had no reservations with threatening him with what Sephiroth feared most at that moment. It made him hate the man.

With the whole of his effort, Sephiroth closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down, to show the man that he had nothing to fear... At least for the moment.

When he felt somewhat under control, trying to put the other man at ease, he looked at Valentine with the gentlest face he could manage, which felt like an stretched mask, and said, "I won't hurt anyone. What would be the point?"

"I'm sorry, but I don't believe you. I can't take any risk."

Outside of summoning him? Sephiroth wanted to say as much, to tell the gunman that his own actions were just as irrational, if not more so, but didn't bother, fearing he'd provoke Valentine into doing exactly what he'd threatened to do. Valentine didn't trust him in the least and he understood why. Truly he did. The knowledge made him smirk. Valentine's frown grew at the expression and the summon reeled the smirk in.

After a moment of extended staring, Valentine finally gestured his claw at him. "But, again, you can't come with me while looking like that."

"I don't exactly have a wardrobe hidden away."

Valentine let out a short-lived huff, apparently appreciating the bit of dry humor. Then he took to eyeing him again. Seconds later, Sephiroth noticed a visible fluttering down the length of his own body. He looked down as clothing, a snug pair of jeans and a t-shirt, melted over his body, replacing the uniform he knew so well.

"This is getting more disturbing by the moment," Sephiroth muttered.

Valentine laughed shortly. "I doubt it could get much worse."

"I don't."

When Sephiroth looked back up, he noticed the strange look in Valentine's eyes, the man studying his face. Sephiroth involuntarily recoiled from it. Then the gunman smiled at him and Sephiroth realized the smile was hope, an emotion he definitely hadn't meant to give the other man.

Then Valentine was frowning at him again. "Your hair..."

Sephiroth touched it defensively, remembering its length, the way it flowed when he fought, the way it touched him like an embrace and, at times, with a stranglehold.

But it also tagged him as who he was as nothing else did, at least from a distance.

It was absurd to be protective over something so vain, but it'd been there his whole life, whether or not he took his clothes off or put Masamune to rest. Unable to help it, knowing Valentine could do something unsavory to the silver locks, he hissed, "Do it and I'll kill you."

With an apparent sudden tiredness closing the gunman's eyes, Valentine pocketed the materia and said, "I don't have a choice."

Without further warning, the hair draping down Sephiroth's cheeks suddenly darkened considerably, shortening to frame his face. He couldn't escape the assault, nor fight against it, although everything in him screamed to do something, anything, instead of merely standing there and taking it. When Valentine's eyes refocused on his own, knowing at least his face hadn't been touched, Sephiroth growled for some peace of mind, "Do you truly think this will fool anyone?"

Valentine smirked, looking him over again. "It's night time and no one really looks that close, unless you draw attention to yourself. So, don't draw attention to yourself."

Sephiroth looked away, but then Valentine was walking away from him, probably expecting him to follow. It took a few seconds to make his feet move, but eventually they did. There wasn't much choice.

Together, they leapt over dilapidated structures, buildings that had once been Midgar's pride and joy. And he'd destroyed it. The memory, the vengeful, righteous death he'd caused, made him feel just the tiniest bit better about the situation. By the time they reached Edge, the streets were nearly barren of life, due to the time of night. At a house stuffed between other ones that looked exactly the same, Valentine produced a set of keys and opened the front door.

Valentine went through the door and said over his shoulder, "Wait here for a minute." True to his word, he was only gone about a minute, but when he came back, he was holding a cloak. "Here, just put this on. I'm not really ready to deal with it if someone sees you. I'd still like to live here, at least for tonight."

The words got Sephiroth frowning, as he slipped the fabric on, because he realized the meaning behind them.

Valentine was prepared to risk being ostracized by all who knew him, just to give Sephiroth a 'chance'? Although he only had the barest hints as to what it was like to have a family, more learned from books and second-hand chatter than reality, the closest he'd had to family being friends he'd kept at a distance, the thought left him unsettled.

Quietly, they walked directly to a room on the upper floor without confrontation. When Valentine closed the door behind them, the summon removed the cloak and took in the room that almost reminded him of his own in the ShinRa building, as devoid of personal artifacts as it was, except this room's furniture was poorly made.

"Sit," Valentine said as he pointed down at a wooden chair.

With gritted teeth, Sephiroth did sit, and then Valentine left him there for several minutes before he heard his voice in the hallway.

"Yeah, I just got caught up at headquarters. I'll talk to you about it in the morning. Good night, Tifa."

"Okay..." Sephiroth heard footsteps before the woman added a soft, "Good night."

Valentine reentered the bedroom with a plate of food in his hand, closing the door behind himself, but stopped when he saw Sephiroth. Valentine watched him for several long moments before he seemed to gather his wits. Then he sat down on the bed, trying to avoid eye contact while he ate, but didn't succeed all that well.

Sephiroth didn't have the same problem though, watching Valentine blatantly. And he tried to find the same anger he'd felt towards the man before, but couldn't really.

He found it interesting that when he didn't attack, the other man showed him absolutely no aggression. It seemed like that should have been obvious, that if he himself didn't attack, the world wouldn't fight back, but he couldn't help but be a bit confused by the fact.

As much as he didn't want to, Sephiroth remembered the past, a past he'd thought he'd rid himself of, of a time when he'd been a 'hero' to so many people which, at the time, had given him a secret pleasure inside of his stoic exterior. But that had been before he'd realized the world had betrayed him.

But where were these sudden memories coming from? Well, they'd started drowning him when Valentine had touched him. But whether from Valentine's touch or not, it didn't really matter where everything came from, since it was there either way.

And was it all a good or bad thing? Well, obviously, it was bad, because it made him remember everything, even the horrible things.

But, swimming around in that knowledge was the fact that Valentine should have hated him as Sephiroth had himself hated everything. But Valentine didn't. Instead he...

The gunman finished his plate and put it on the end table next to the bed. He started taking off his boots, but then paused, looking up at him. Valentine looked at him with something Sephiroth wasn't prepared for: a guarded heat that told him he definitely shouldn't have been in this man's bedroom. That told him this was the last place he should have been. If only Valentine would have agreed and allowed him to leave.

Sephiroth looked away, his stomach boiling in a mixture of fear and disgust. And a responsive, unavoidable lust that made him livid. It seemed, even now, he wasn't completely rid of his primal mind. 

And what exactly was Valentine was expecting him to do? Could he even do anything? It wasn't as if he could get it up. Could he? Even if he could have, how could it have been the same as when he'd been a man?

When the swordsman refused to make eye contact, Valentine continued on in removing his boots and then stood to remove his cape. He threw it on a nearby chair in the corner. When Valentine stopped moving, Sephiroth could feel his eyes on him again. Gathering up all defying courage Sephiroth should have had in the first place, he looked the other man back in the eye. Valentine offered him a weak smile.

"I never thought..." Valentine shook his head, right before he laid, well, collapsed down on the bed to stare at the ceiling.

Sephiroth swallowed and then, against his better judgement, asked, "Never thought what?"

Valentine didn't answer him outside of a tensing of his jaw. Instead, a good minute later, he said, "I'm going to try to go to sleep."

Sleep? Sephiroth knew he'd surely go back inside the materia with Valentine unconscious. That knowledge brought instant fear. But what could he do about it? He couldn't keep Valentine awake forever.

"What's wrong?"

He focused back on Valentine. "Nothing..." When Valentine continued his questioning stare, feeling quite vulnerable, Sephiroth admitted quietly, "I... I'm just not ready for it."

"Ready for what?"

"To go back inside."

"Oh... Is it..."

Sephiroth looked out of the window, trying to be rid of the memories of what it was like in the materia, trying to find freedom, but not succeeding with either with the inevitable so close. "It's just... nothing. There's nothing there."

"Oh..." There were only Valentine's shallow breaths for far too long before Valentine added, "Forgive me." Sephiroth turned his head to frown at the other man before Valentine continued with, "This is my fault. I shouldn't have touched you. I believe..." He clawed a hand through his thick, long hair, yanking on it. "When I touched you, it apparently did something. When I first called you, you were like any other summon."

With so many raw emotions flooding through his own body at once, Sephiroth had to look away.

Valentine added, "I'm sorry, I truly am."

The words were filled with such fervor that Sephiroth couldn't help but look back. Valentine looked at him with so much unbridled feeling, remorse and something that looked like lust or love, all mixed together, that Sephiroth couldn’t help but unwittingly respond to them, get wrapped up in them.

Why did Valentine feel these things? They barely knew each other, outside of desiring each other's deaths.

Perhaps a simpler question to ask was why Valentine had summoned him to begin with when he could have just have easily tossed the materia in the nearest garbage? ...Of course, that was probably attached to the first question.

But, overall, had it been curiosity? No, it couldn't have been merely that, again considering the way the gunman looked at him.

Valentine had said he'd wanted to give him a chance. So, was it guilt? But over what?

Sephiroth remembered what he'd seen in the gunman's head when they'd touched, of Valentine's present as well as his past. Although what he'd seen, what he believed were Vincent's memories, had had some thoughts and emotions to go with them, they still didn't make sense to him. However, one thing he knew for sure was that Valentine had known Hojo, having seen a much younger version of the man in those flashes.

Sephiroth finally swallowed at Valentine's prior words, choosing to ignore them. He wasn't about to add more words to Valentine's already nonsensical beggings. Whether or not Valentine was sorry, it didn't matter. This hellishness was now Sephiroth's life and there wasn't a thing either of them could do to change it, short of trying to kill the gunman and taking his chances afterwards.

And Valentine never said any more. And that was fine. The gunman had said and done more than enough already. 

Almost an hour later, Vincent mumbled, "I don't think I can stay awake much longer."

It was one of the hardest things Sephiroth had ever done to simply say, "Just go to sleep."

Soon, Valentine's breathing evened out. As much as Sephiroth resisted it, he felt the pull of the materia and couldn't stop the reclaiming. All he could do was pray that Valentine would wake back up soon.


	4. Chapter 4

Reemerging in the only armor Vincent had ever known him to wear, void of any tangible emotion except perhaps an underlining loathing, Sephiroth barely acknowledged him before the swordsman turned to look out the window. Activity bustled out on the early-morning streets below Vincent's second story window. The commotion leaked through the window, letting Vincent know he'd slept far too long, never mind the good thirty minutes or so he'd also taken to find the determination to summon Sephiroth again.

Now, with the summoning complete, Vincent tried not to think at all anymore because he was so unbelievably tired of doing it, and of regretting, and hoping. Instead, still sitting on his bed, his back to the backboard, he took to watching the summon who stood stiffly a short distance away. To restrain himself from doing something more physical and unwelcome, because he couldn't touch the man himself, Vincent gripped the materia harshly in his hand. Nor did he bother attempting to offer comfort with his voice.

It was clear Sephiroth wanted nothing to do with him. That knowledge destroyed Vincent's minimal humor and worked well to kill any remaining unwelcome lust that had almost overcome his restraint the night before.

Nonetheless, too much had changed from one day to the next... Before, he'd felt almost comfortable and safe in his love for Sephiroth, the man being more an idea than an actual person. It had been a distant thing, an obligation to set right a wrong and not a love that made him yearn to hear Sephiroth's voice. 

But now, after meeting the man and not trying to shoot him or tear him apart...

Vincent hadn't expected to be this drawn in by Sephiroth. But the younger man's intensity... His beauty and strength. Hell, even his temper and hate and cunning. All of it pulled Vincent's strings in a way that was impossible to ignore no matter how he tried. But that didn't surprise him much.

Vincent knew his own mind, how it always seemed drawn to people who'd never return the favor. The loves of his life, a number countable on less than one hand, had always walked away after tearing his heart apart because he'd placed the thing in indifferent and hostile hands.

Perhaps he was simply cursed to love the wrong people, even though they always seemed so right, even with retrospect.

Or perhaps his illogical choices were a protection from reexperiencing the dysfunctional life he'd known as a child, to in turn protect a child of his own from such a life. But could his subconscious really be that cruel?

Or, hell, perhaps he was simply unlovable. ...Yeah, that was probably what it was.

And, now with Sephiroth, it appeared he'd managed to misplace his heart yet again, quite spectacularly this time. And what exactly was he supposed to do about it since, unfortunately, he'd never been able to figure out a way to un-love a person, no matter what they did to him? No matter how unwelcome his love was.

To make matters all the worse, now that he understood Sephiroth's new existence better, the guilt Vincent felt wouldn't let him force the other man back inside, no matter how much Sephiroth apparently hated every moment of being with him.

_If only I could undo what I've done. ...God, so many fucking 'if only's'…_

And here was another one: If only Hojo and Lucrecia had cursed him with sleeplessness, instead of immortality. But Vincent doubted Sephiroth would have appreciated such a thing much and certainly not enough to be grateful.

How the hell was he supposed to please this man, make him non-homicidal? And why even try when he knew without a doubt that, if Sephiroth hadn't been in this controlled state, the summon would have left the moment he'd awoken from the materia?

_And I’m doing all this because..._

He couldn't come up with even a semi-sane reason at that point.

A knock sounded at the door and Vincent jerked his head towards the wood, as did Sephiroth.

"Vincent, breakfast is ready," a youthful female voice said.

"Okay, thank you, Marlene," Vincent replied, making considerable effort to keep the tension out of his voice.

When he heard bare feet pad away, he looked to Sephiroth. The other man was looking down at the floor, his mind visibly working.

Vincent sighed, knowing the call of life was inevitable, but were they really going to do this? Surely, the best course was to stay in his bedroom. As if that was feasible in the long term.

Or they could jump from the window and escape into the morning, giving these people their deserved peace. But then he might as well never come back.

No, he couldn't do that either. Admittedly, despite the pull of Sephiroth and of what Vincent had to do no matter the irrationality of it because, to him, it was still the only rational thing to do, well, he still wasn't ready to leave the home he had here.

…And when had he become so attached to this place exactly? He didn't know, but the warm familiarity he felt here, he feared he'd never find it again if he left. It'd taken so long to find it in the first place.

So, in the end, with none of those things being options, at least for the moment, what were they going to do? Well, that was a question he probably should have answered before he'd summoned Sephiroth in the first place.

Vincent supposed he could have attempted to restrain Sephiroth with thought and left him alone, but without a certain degree of constant concentration, he knew Sephiroth would be free to do as he wished, just like any other summon. The difference was: Sephiroth would have personal intent behind his actions, whereas a normal summon would only be following its master's last desire.

They also could have just said 'screw you' to the world, other people's reactions be damned. But that didn't take the people he cared about into consideration. He'd made Sephiroth's and his own life miserable enough. He didn't need to bring everyone else into it as well.

Staring at the door again, Vincent muttered, "Perhaps... Perhaps we should just leave. Everyone here is just starting to rebuild their lives. It's not right to..."

"To force them to look at me?" Sephiroth offered, smirking, which Vincent saw when he jerked his head to frown at Sephiroth. But Sephiroth's expression held little humor. When Vincent couldn't deny the offered words, Sephiroth glared at the gunman instead before he looked down his own body. "Well, if my clothing and hair can be changed, then surely anything about my appearance can be." He looked back at Vincent with a small, humorless huff. "I mean, I'm not really here after all, am I?"

Revolt gritted Vincent's teeth at the last comment. If Sephiroth wasn't truly there then all of this risk was for naught so he wasn't about to think that.

Choosing to ignore the words outwardly since it was useless to argue, Vincent instead said, "Perhaps you could change your appearance enough, but you'd still glow. And anyone who knows how to use materia and recognizes the energy it creates, namely the people in this household, well, they'll be able to sense the difference in you. And if they touch you..." He didn't know what would happen if someone else touched Sephiroth, nor did he want to find out and for various reasons including a specific reason he wasn't about to admit to the other man. "It would be easier if we just left."

Sephiroth crossed his arms, turning his whole body to face Vincent straight on. There was something in his light frown, his stance, that told Vincent that the next question was sincere in its confusion. "You would give up your home, your friends for this?" The intensity of Sephiroth's emotions managed to seep through, no matter how much Sephiroth seemed to want to hide it.

Faced with it, Vincent fought to control his breathing. "I'll do what I must."

And he would do it, despite the consequences, despite probably losing everything he knew, despite the fact that he now realized he didn't want leave, not anymore.

He would give up everything if he had to, even for a man who hated him, because, unlike everyone else, Vincent wouldn't grow old. He wouldn't die. And, eventually, everyone he knew would be dead. If this was indeed the only life Sephiroth could now possess, Vincent was Sephiroth's best chance at having a semi-normal life, a life where nothing would be expected of Sephiroth beyond civility. At least, that was what Vincent told himself.

On top of that, he would do it because, unlike the Sephiroth of a few weeks ago, this Sephiroth was so much the man that had been described to him by Cloud. So far, all of Sephiroth's reactions had been, well, reasonable, the man reacting in ways Vincent himself would have. Furthermore, the other man had made no claims to the planet and hadn't even mentioned his 'mother'.

Perhaps his touch had done more than he realized. Sephiroth had said he'd seen what was in his mind, his thoughts and, unfortunately, his desires for Sephiroth. Perhaps Sephiroth had seen much more than he was admitting to. Then again, perhaps Sephiroth didn't even realize the changes Vincent recognized.

On the other end of sanity, there were also many reasons he shouldn't have been doing this, including fact that, if he left with Sephiroth, he'd have no choice but to be with this man day after day... Vincent couldn't pretend to know what it'd do to him if Sephiroth continued to hate him, nor the toll it'd take on his mental and physical stability. Not to mention the restraint Vincent would need to keep up at all times, again for various reasons.

But those were worries for the future since, right then, Vincent still had a home if he wanted it.

Steeling himself for the day ahead, Vincent shook his head, trying to banish all of those thoughts, before he said, "I'm going to take a quick shower and then head down for breakfast. You can either come with me or go back inside."

Sephiroth gritted his teeth. Apparently he didn't like either option. Soon enough though, when Vincent was about to press the matter, Sephiroth muttered, "I'll come with you."

Vincent watched him for a moment, giving him the chance to change his mind. When Sephiroth only stared back, Vincent nodded and grabbed his towel and a change of clothes, then, feeling a bit childish, peeked out the door to be sure no one was in the hallway and the bathroom was open. He looked back at Sephiroth.

In case he hadn't been clear before, since Sephiroth hadn't moved yet, he added, "Unfortunately, you're coming with me now, as well."

Cat-like eyes widened slightly. Sephiroth's mouth opened in probable protest, but then he closed it and glowered instead.

Ignoring the apparent revulsion since there wasn't a thing he could do about it, Vincent walked out of the bedroom and, thankfully, regretfully, Sephiroth followed without further protest. The gunman led Sephiroth to the bathroom and closed the door behind them.

...And how exactly was he supposed to do this with Sephiroth in the room? Especially when Sephiroth merely watched him, his face absurdly serious, and Vincent felt heat centralize at his groin.

There was only really one thing he could do to avoid embarrassing himself with a raging hard on, not to mention the monstrosity of his body. Instead of facing Sephiroth in the small bathroom, he stepped inside of the bathtub, pulled the curtain closed, and quickly stripped down, tossing the articles over the top and onto the floor. He tried not to make a sound when ice cold water hit him, but didn't succeed much.

"You're acting like a shy schoolgirl."

Vincent dunked his face into the water before he growled, "God. Just shut-up."

He heard the other man snort. Unlike a schoolgirl, he felt himself harden further involuntarily. He did his best to will it away, scrubbing quickly, and washing layers of thick raven hair with little tenderness. By the time he turned off the water, thankfully his cock had lost its former glory. He reached around the curtain and grabbed his towel he'd left on top of the toilet and wiped off quickly before wrapping and securing the towel around his waist.

When he drew the curtain, Sephiroth was looking right at him, his face still serious, but this time it held emotion Vincent didn't want to put a name to and risk tenting the towel. He realized, behind the frosted curtain, Sephiroth had probably seen every motion and every limb he had.

After gritting his teeth for a moment at his mortification, Vincent asked, "Could you just turn around?"

Sephiroth raised a brow. "But isn't this what you wanted, Valentine?"

Vincent's body tensed, but then felt his mouth open when, Sephiroth apparently still having no qualms about his blatant stare, the swordsman actually walked directly up to him until he was almost pressed against him since Vincent had refused to back up in the tub in retreat. But Sephiroth nonetheless stayed far enough away to avoid contact.

Then, defying all logic and the order of the world, Sephiroth's hand came up, hesitating a bit, before it touched Vincent's bare chest, right where there was a huge scar where he'd been cut from chest to groin. Surely Sephiroth could feel his thrashing heartbeat even with the light touch.

The shock of that touch though... Thankfully he didn't faint again, but there wasn't a soul alive who wouldn't recognize what Sephiroth was, or at least know that he was different, not human. Vincent sucked in his breath as the energy and heat intertwined inside of him.

Then the touch started sliding downwards. It was all Vincent could do to not react outwardly. He didn't pretend to know Sephiroth's intentions, especially with the seriousness in the swordsman's face as it watched its own hand. Whatever the reasons though, Vincent knew he should have been shoving him away. Why the hell wasn't he shoving Sephiroth away?

Probably because it felt too fucking good to be touched like this by him of all people.

His fingertips racked lightly over Vincent's tense stomach. Vincent closed his eyes, avoiding reality in favor of this man's touch.

Sephiroth murmured, "You say you're giving me a chance, a choice. But, really, Valentine, it's you who has all the choice in the world right now."

Despite the softness with which those words were spoken, underneath, they were still icy, screaming of hate and vengeance. All of it combined heated Vincent far more than it should have. God, he was fucked up.

The hand began to wedge itself behind his towel that hung low at his waist, threatening to unsecure it. Realizing what was about to happen, knowing Sephiroth wasn't doing this out of anything that even remotely resembled love or even lust, Vincent's eyes snapped open and he grabbed the hand, gripping it harshly.

"You know what, you're right," Vincent admitted between trembling breaths, glaring more at himself than at Sephiroth, "But believe that I'm trying to give you choices as well. You don't have to do this to get what you want."

At the words, Sephiroth stopped the small fight for dominance and glowered back at him.

"Just turn around and let me get dressed."

After a tense moment, the air seeming too thick to breathe, the swordsman stepped away from him and Vincent let his hand go, but instead of turning around, Sephiroth merely leaned against the door.

"What are you doing?"

"You said you're giving me choices, and I choose this. You're going to deny me?"

Vincent's mouth opened a bit, but nothing came out. Under the younger man's intense gaze, his dick hardened again, the appendage not caring what Vincent wanted. Unnerved, the gunman blurted out, "This isn't what I meant."

"Valentine, I think we're well beyond false modesty."

"Good God. Will you just turn around?"

"No."

Vincent's chest heaving far more than he would have liked, he hissed, "Fine, I'll turn around."

Sephiroth huffed. "As if that would bother me."

Despite himself, Vincent burst out with a short-lived laugh, half because he did find it funny, half because he just needed the relief. After all, he was about ready to pull his own hair out. And Vincent suddenly had to question whether or not the world knew the truth about Sephiroth. This man was not acting like a virgin in any way.

Knowing he had to get out of the tub, with Sephiroth smirking at him, seeming to know every bit of Vincent's turmoil and closely watching the gunman's every moment, Vincent stepped out and yanked on his shirt, buttoning it with nimble fingers. That done, he paused for a moment, looking Sephiroth in his shameless eye, before he pulled on the towel at his waist, letting it drop to the floor. Sephiroth had no problem looking downwards. Vincent himself did his best to ignore his growing hard-on and yanked his underwear and pants on over damp legs. Finally, he sat on the toilet and put his socks on.

"See, that wasn't so... hard."

Muttering, "Good God, the guy's a fucking asshole," under his breath, Vincent tried to glare but didn't succeed completely in face of Sephiroth's slight smirk.

This was a side of Sephiroth he'd never seen before, nor heard of. Of course, they'd always spent most of their time trying to kill each other. Now... Now they had nothing but time on their hands. And Sephiroth was probably just gratifying his need for as much control as he could get in the few ways he could get it, all at Vincent's expense.

Standing up, Vincent shook his head in resignation over the fact that every bit of this was surely just a game to the younger man. "As amusing as you seem to find this, Sephiroth, again, it's not necessary. You're not obligated to..."

The words trailed off when, unexpectedly, Sephiroth straightened to full height, the man showing the first traces of rage the gunman had seen that morning. The reaction alarmed Vincent because he didn't know what exactly had caused it.

"Since you seem to want to order me around with your every breath, how exactly would you have me react to all of this? Would you prefer it if I shriveled up into a weak, whipped invalid who wouldn't dream of hurting a cockroach, never mind these people you care so much about? Or would you prefer it if I terrorized you? Would that make you feel better about putting me back in there whenever you feel like it? Or perhaps that would make it so you don't feel so fucking guilty when you're using me as the inspiration for your disgusting perversions. So tell me, Valentine, what exactly can I do to please you? I really, truly want to know."

Even though the merciless words had been hissed so quietly, every one of them pounded into Vincent in the small bathroom. Unable to help it, he jerked his gaze away from Sephiroth's rage and closed his eyes, pressing his lips together, trying to ignore the obvious meaning behind every word, the truth in them, and the abhorrence from Sephiroth that came along with them. He didn't want to hear any of it right now, not when he'd been hearing the same things over and over again inside of his own head for weeks, ever since the materia had come to him.

A saving grace, Tifa called upstairs, "Vincent, are you coming down?"

Eyes snapping back open to look around Sephiroth, Vincent suddenly had the urge to kiss the woman. "Ah, yeah, I'll be down in a minute," he called back, just loud enough for her to hear clearly, and then bent over and picked up his laundry before he let his eyes roam quickly over Sephiroth's muscular form. "I'm going downstairs. Assuming you want to stay out of the materia, figure out who you'd like to look like."

Sephiroth glared some more, an almost permanent expression on the man's face, before cat-like eyes closed. Unexpectedly, the summon then fluttered with a mix of colors. His face changed shape, becoming younger but with stronger features. His body shortened slightly. Silver hair turned black, shortening until it was just at his shoulders. His armor and coat formed into a shirt similar to a SOLDIER's standard uniform. Brown, calf-high boots replaced black ones.

Curious despite everything, Vincent asked, "Who is that?"

The unfamiliar face smiled slightly, almost sadly, but honestly, as it looked up to Vincent. His voice huskier than before, Sephiroth murmured, "Someone I once knew."

At Sephiroth's sudden calmness that had absolutely nothing to do with the gunman, Vincent felt something he wished he didn't have to call jealousy. Was this the man who'd perhaps...

Trying to get rid of the train of thought, Vincent forced out, "Does he have a name? I mean, I'll have to give them something other than Sephiroth."

"Angeal."

"And no one will recognize him?"

"Perhaps Cloud, but any chanced meeting would have happened years ago. Otherwise, no. No one here would."

"Okay."

Sephiroth looked at him then and frowned. Before he could say anything though, Vincent walked past him and back to his bedroom, Sephiroth following quietly. Vincent deposited his laundry in the basket to be done later and made quick work of a brush through his hair.

"Let's get this over with," Vincent growled out when he'd gotten the knots out.

Sephiroth nodded and they walked downstairs. When Vincent entered the dining room, he immediately opened the curtains to their fullest extent, hoping that would help banish the summon's glow. The people seated at the table followed his movements, the older ones frowning a bit at the odd behavior before they turned back and noticed the second man standing in the doorway.

"Oh. Vincent, I didn't know you have company." Tifa stood up, smiling at Sephiroth. "Is he your..."

"Job? No. He's...."

Barret stood up, motioning to an empty chair. "Hey, sit here. We'll get another plate for ya." When Sephiroth started to shake his head, Barret encouraged, "Don't worry about it. We always have leftovers."

Sephiroth smiled carefully. "Uh, I'm not all that hungry. Thank you though."

"Well, come sit down anyway." Tifa said, sitting down again, still smiling. "We always welcome more company at the table."

Vincent sat down, asking, "Cloud isn't here?"

"No, a job came up. He went to Kalm but he'll be back later tonight," Tifa replied before she popped a bit of scrambled egg into her mouth.

Then Vincent turned his head to look at the summon still standing in the doorway for several long moments. Finally, Sephiroth walked to the table and sat down stiffly. It wasn't until then that Tifa lost a bit of her smile. Then a frown started to take over.

Watching it happen with a growing knowledge that they should have just gotten the hell out of there, Vincent attempted to distract her with, "Were you both at the same site yesterday?"

It took a second before Tifa turned her gaze onto Vincent. "Ah, yeah, we got quite a bit done actually. The family is getting ready to move back in later this week. They're glad to do it too. Two families can only live together for so long in a three bedroom apartment before they start to drive each other crazy."

"Not like us though," Marlene chimed in. "We'd never get sick of each other."

Tifa grinned at her. "Nope, we couldn't get rid of each other if we tried."

Marlene stuck her tongue out a bit. "You say that as if that's a bad thing."

"Now how could that ever be a bad thing," Tifa murmured, still grinning, running a hand through the girl's hair.

"Yo, Vincent, you didn't introduce us to your friend," Barret said between a bite, his plate almost cleaned off.

"Uh, this is Angeal. We, ah..."

Tifa's brows rose, then she smiled again, probably trying to keep her ideas of what their relationship entailed out of the minds of the children. "Oh, well, I'm glad to see you're making friends."

Denzel perked up at the words. "Oh, maybe you two can come to our game then. We're playing the kids from the east side."

Vincent glanced at Sephiroth before he said, "Of course we'd like to come. But I think it'll have to be another one. We have some plans today."

The boy sunk back into his seat. "Oh, okay..."

Vincent felt a pang of guilt. He'd been trying to be a proper father figure to Denzel since the boy no longer had a father, but he knew his off and on behavior did little to satisfy him. He was glad the boy had Marlene, too, as well as Cloud, Tifa, and Barret.

Then Vincent's heart chilled when the obvious became apparent. Little did Denzel and the others know that the newcomer seated at the table was the man responsible for Denzel almost dying. That, on top of the adults in Denzel's life being indirectly responsible for the boy's parents' deaths, Denzel wasn't in the best of company.

When Vincent looked back up from his plate after flicking around pieces of hash browns he couldn't will himself to consume, he noticed the staring contest going on between Tifa and Sephiroth.

Still watching Sephiroth, Tifa said, "Vincent, could I talk to you for a minute?"

So much for luck. He should have left the moment he'd woken up. Standing up, he said, "Okay."

She stood up with him and walked into the living room. He followed a few steps behind. When she turned around, she looked more confused than furious. Vincent knew then that she had no clue who was in there.

"Vincent... Who or what is that?"

The gunman looked back into the dining room and met Sephiroth's eyes. He couldn't find a speck of emotion in the summon's face who was apparently leaving him on his own to decide what to do.

"Vincent? You're starting to scare me. Is he a danger to us? To the kids?"

Hearing her words drew out fear in him. She was right. He was putting all of them, the people he cared about most in the world, in unnecessary danger. Crimson eyes met brown ones. He tried a slight smile to ease her fears but knew it wasn't working.

"Tifa, I'm going to have to leave for a while."

"A while? How long is that exactly? Knowing you, it could be months. Or a year even..." Her words drifted off as Vincent grew tenser. "...Or more? Vincent, seriously, what's going on? Don't... Don't shut us out. If we can help you, you know we're always here for you."

"If I thought this was something you could help me with, of course, I'd ask you."

"Try me."

Vincent huffed out a laugh, smiling sadly. "Tifa, you've been a good friend to me, better than I deserve, but it's better if you remain in the dark about this."

The woman's head began to shake, her smile completely lost. "Please, Vincent, tell me what's going on."

"If I told you, you'd despise me." Like Sephiroth already did.

"No, no, I could never 'despise' you. If that was even remotely true, you wouldn't be living here with us." When he looked away, she chided, "You do know why, right? Because everything you do, you do it because it's the right thing to do. I could never despise someone who cares so much, even if you're not good at showing it."

"Tell that to the people we've killed, Tifa."

Her full mouth tightened into a hard line. "At some point, Vincent, people have to forgive themselves and just try to be better."

"Do you truly believe that?"

"Of course I do."

Vincent gestured a hand at the summon still sitting at the table. "If you knew who that is, you'd never, ever try to make me believe that again, considering what he did to you, to so many people. But you know what, I do believe you. I believe in forgiveness, and that's why I'm doing this."

Again, Tifa looked at the man at her dining room table, brown eyes meeting blue eyes. A genuine fear melted her previous concern. She shook her head until the movement became almost violent. Tears and horror strained her voice as she hissed, "No... Vincent... Tell me it's not him! Not again!"

There was only one 'him' she could have meant. When he didn't reply, she stalked into the dining room, ushered the two questioning children past Vincent, ordered them to get their shoes on, and forced them out the front door. Turning her head, she growled, "How dare you bring _him_ into our home."

When the door slammed shut, Barret was standing at the table, his mouth gapping slightly, clearly not having a clue as to what had just happened. Finally, he managed, "Vincent, what's goin' on here?"

Still watching the door, knowing it would never open again, unless she was coming back to beat both him and Sephiroth to death, Vincent said, "I just made a mistake."

"Oh, well, she'll get over it. She always does."

Already feeling the loss of her, Vincent huffed a humorless laugh. "Most of the time, yes." With tension flourishing through him, he turned and walked back into the dining room. "I'm leaving for a while. I'll have my phone on me though, if you need me."

"Yeah, okay. We'll just be doin' the same old shit. You'll still have loads of work waitin' for you when you get back."

Vincent smiled and walked over to Barret to shake the man's hand.

The man shook back briefly, but muttered, "Man, I hope you're not goin' for _that_ long."

"We'll see. Keep everyone safe. And say goodbye to Cloud for me."

"Yeah, yeah." Then Barret was frowning at Sephiroth who'd stayed completely silent through most of breakfast.

Wondering not for the first time if he was doing the right thing, Vincent gripped Sephiroth's shoulder, muttering, "Come on, let's go."

Sephiroth stood, watching Barret as he walked past, as Barret watched him. Finally, before they broke eye contact, Sephiroth smiled. "Take care."

"Yeah... you too."

While stalking up the stairs, a fury at everything that had just happened, at a lifetime of regret, at far too many things, grew in the pit of Vincent's stomach. When he entered into his room, he instantly went to work on throwing his few possessions into his bag he'd pulled out of the closet, things which mostly consisted of firearms and tactical gear. Every motion spoke only of his newfound wrath over the situation, one everyone hated him for, including the single person he was doing all of this for.

Finally, he pocketed the materia in his pants, threw his cloak back over his shoulders, and looked to Sephiroth. "Any complaints or smart-ass remarks you'd care to share before we leave? Please, get them out now because if you say one word after we leave, I swear to God you're going back inside and I can't promise when you'll come back out."

Quiet, unmoving, except for the turns of his head while he'd watched Vincent's rampage, Sephiroth merely continued his stare. Vincent tried to keep his rage, but when blue eyes only watched his, he succumbed and sat down on the edge of the bed, burying his hands in his hair, yanking on it, trying to find distance in the resulting pain. He was losing it. Severely.

"God. And I thought you were the crazy one here."

"Crazy?"

Vincent looked back up, eyeing the other man, genuinely shocked by the seemingly innocent question. "Yes, crazy, Sephiroth. You were crazy. You slaughtered people. You called an alien your mother when your real mother is crying for you in a mako tomb! You killed Aeris, the only other person in this world who would have helped you. You tried to use the planet as a 'vessel', for fuck's sake! Tell me you remember all of that because everyone else sure as hell does!"

It took a few seconds, but slowly some of Vincent's wrath drained because he noticed how confused the summon's face had gotten.

"Real mother? My mother is Jenova."

The words brought Vincent to a complete standstill. And he realized then, even after all of these years, Sephiroth still didn't know the truth about his mother, his past, probably not even about Hojo.

And, to make matters so much worse, Vincent suddenly didn’t have a clue how to make his mouth work anymore.

In the back of his mind, he'd always known he could tell this man the truth about everything, but there'd never seemed to be the opportunity. Or, perhaps, he'd just never had the balls to confess to Sephiroth about Vincent's own part in what had made Sephiroth's life so horrible, so many people's lives horrible. Now...

Now, he could say something, confess every word of it, but the words still wouldn't form.

The longer Vincent couldn’t find the will to say anything, the more infuriated Sephiroth appeared to get in his impatience for an answer. The whole of that didn't take long at all. Sephiroth took a step forward. Vincent couldn't help but back up, retreating from the situation in the only way he had left. Sephiroth seemed to sense this as he suddenly charged forward, grabbed Vincent by the shirt, and shoved him back a few more steps until he hit the far wall by the window.

Vincent pressed his hand and claw against the summon, trying to keep distance between them, forgetting that it was, in fact, very easy to control Sephiroth had he thought to do it. But, at the moment, his mind was more focused on avoiding than controlling. He wasn't at all prepared for this discussion, despite knowing it'd been inevitable for the last thirty-two years. Well, really, he hadn't been prepared for any of this, as the previous hours had shown.

Almost against him, Sephiroth searched his face with his brilliant cat-like eyes. His enraged expression softened the tiniest bit before he growled, "I know you knew Hojo. And I know what he did to you. The scars you have... But the other one, that pregnant woman I saw in your mind... that you... loved..."

Realizing the extent of what Sephiroth had seen in his mind, Vincent's mouth went completely dry as heart pounded and his body began to sweat. Yes, he'd loved her. God, how he'd loved her. But his love hadn't mattered enough to her. Just as his love for Sephiroth didn't matter to the said man in the least.

No, his useless love hadn't stopped any of this from happening. Nor had Vincent's fight against Hojo and Lucrecia. And spending thirty years in a coffin obviously hadn't done shit either.

Sephiroth gave him a few seconds to form some coherent words before Sephiroth apparently gave up and whispered so close to Vincent's face, "I don't understand most of what I saw in your head. But I know now that you know things you're not telling me for reasons I honestly don't care about. So, please," Sephiroth said, shoving him slightly to emphasize the please, "tell me, Valentine. What did I see in your head?"

Before Vincent could open his mouth to say something, anything, Sephiroth seemed to catch something out of the corner of his eye when his gaze jerked to the window.

A moment later, the swordsman said, "She's brought friends."


	5. Chapter 5

The abrupt change in topic, as well as the topic before it, not to mention the man still nearly against him despite Vincent's arms pressing between them, all those things had Vincent's head spinning. Nonetheless, he managed to turn his own head and look out the window just in time to see Tifa, Reno, and Rude rush up a few steps and enter the door the woman had previously escaped through with the children. Seconds later, drifting upstairs, he could hear the conversation, then the arguing going on downstairs, although they were obviously trying to keep it down. 

"Fuck," Vincent said under his breath, shoving hard at Sephiroth and making him stumble back a few steps, then continuing to listen carefully. 

How many seconds did they have before it all went to hell? 

If she'd brought Turks into this mess, then surely she'd already called Cloud. And if the blonde man was going to react to this how Vincent suspected he would, with Cloud grabbing a sword before bothering with words, that would make leaving impossible because Vincent wasn't going to hurt the ex-trooper. He couldn't hurt any of the people under this roof. 

They just had to get out of Edge and quickly. 

He should have fucking left the day he'd picked up that materia. His first hint towards that course of action should have been the fact that he never dared to tell a soul about the seemingly innocent marble. 

In the end, after all these weeks, all he'd really done was refuse to think the obvious until it was too late. It certainly wasn't the first time he'd done it. 

Well, none of that mattered anymore. He'd dug his own grave, again. Now he had to try to escape it because, at this point, he was partly winning as long as he still had Sephiroth under his protection. 

Vincent stormed past the said man, strapped Death Penalty to his back, and picked up his bag laying on the bed. Then he faced the summon. "Sorry, but you're going back inside," 

"How is putting me back in-" 

"Just shut-up," Vincent barked out, not wanting to hear anything from Sephiroth because anything the swordsman could have said wouldn't have changed reality, rather it just would have wasted time they didn't have. He swung the bag over his shoulder. "I know you understand why. I won't risk you doing anything and making this worse than it already is. And I don't have time to argue with you about it." 

In an instant, for the first time since yesterday, Sephiroth's whole being radiated with a fight that was probably part instinctual, part training, and part fear and fury. It literally lit the room up with light. And Vincent refused to pay it any heed, mentally thrusting the summon back into the orb in the next instant. He could deal with a pissed off Sephiroth later. 

Heart racing and breathing hard from mental exertion alone, hoping he could still distill the situation at least a small bit, Vincent stalked down the stairs before the other people could even come to a decision on how to best approach a man with demons inside of him. And who wielded Sephiroth, or, more likely, to them at least, Sephiroth wielded him. 

Then again, could Vincent really swear where his mind was when he knew exactly where his heart was? 

By the time he reached the bottom, the others were silent and staring at him. 

Tifa looked down, noticing his bag he now held loosely as he prepared to drop it, and took a step forward. "Vincent, they're here to help. I don't know what Sephiroth has told you, but he can't be trusted. If you give me the materia, Reeve has promised to make sure no one ever uses it again." 

"Yeah, the WRO is the only one that can make sure that happens," Reno said, stepping forward as well. 

Tifa looked to the redhead briefly then nodded. "Reeve said they have ways to destroy it." 

Vincent shook his head. "And release him again? Did you ever think he was put inside the materia for a reason?" 

It was an argument the gunman had pulled from out of nowhere when faced with the apparent real prospect of being able to destroy the materia. But it suddenly made a ton of sense. Perhaps Sephiroth being inside the materia was exactly where the planet wanted Sephiroth to stay, to protect itself and everyone who lived on it. Could there have been a better prison for a man who couldn't meld back into the Lifestream as all others did, because he wasn't completely human? 

"Well, there're also places to get rid of the thing. Deep holes." Reno sized up the depth with his hands. "You know. Use your imagination." 

Vincent failed to believe that would actually happened. While Shin-Ra had been severely neutered two years before, there were still people in power who would see a caged Sephiroth as quite an opportunity. Vincent, in fact, personally knew a few in WRO. 

"Vincent, please," Tifa pleaded, "How can any of us ever feel safe if you have that?" 

He knew Tifa was questioning his stability. He didn't blame her. In fact, he completely understood. He himself had been questioning his sanity for weeks, well, decades. 

Nonetheless, he wasn't about to turn the materia over to the very people that, only years before, would have definitely used the orb for malicious purposes. Today, he couldn't be quite as sure, but there was always the risk. 

Besides, even if they didn't use it, if they did indeed throw it into some deep hole, Vincent knew the state Sephiroth was in. The ex-SOLDIER was probably already cursing him a thousand times over for forcing him back into the materia. Over time, Sephiroth would surely go completely insane. And that would be completely his fault if he simply turned it over. He couldn't allow that to happen. He'd already made this commitment. Never mind that Vincent knew that he himself might, in turn, go insane from it all. 

No, he refused to break his commitment to this course of action, despite his conflicting thoughts, because even if these people didn't want to see it, Sephiroth wasn't the same person Cloud had killed weeks before. He knew that without a doubt. Time would only tell though exactly how much Sephiroth had indeed changed. 

When it came down to it, there was only one choice for himself and he accepted that, despite the overabundance of problems it created. 

The obvious question then became: How many people was he going to have to hurt for his choice? Well, that depended on how many stood in his way. 

_...Hell, I am the crazy one._

After blowing out a trembling breath, Vincent said, "Tifa, I'm sorry, but I'm going to leave, and I swear to you, none of this will ever come back to you again." 

Reno stepped closer, putting his hand out like he was taming a wild horse, obviously preparing for a good admonishment. "Look, the choice isn't hers or yours. We're under orders, man. You need to turn that thing over or someone's going to get hurt. And it will be you. Even if you walk away today, you'll never have a moment's peace. Think about it." 

Vincent watched Rude take a step towards Tifa. Reno reached inside of his pocket and picked out a syringe with a clear liquid inside, removing the cap with the other hand. Rude then pulled out one as well. The demon-possessed man knew those weren't meant for him. If it'd been that simple to take out someone like him with a tranquilizer or whatever other concoction they had in there, they could have done the same thing to Sephiroth years ago and called it a day. It was all a threat. In watching his next move, they were giving him a choice he really didn't want. 

"Vincent, please." The woman's brown eyes begged. "I don't want you to get hurt." 

Oh, the ways they could hurt him and never cut him. 

Rude shook his head, his syringe held in both hands in front of him so that Vincent could see it. "You don't want the world after you. Look at what it did to Sephiroth." 

Vincent looked to Barret, the only person in the room who hadn't said anything yet. The man's face was unreadable. Nonetheless, Vincent could feel the pain coming off of his friend. Slowly, Barret started to shake his head. 

"There are reinforcements coming, Vincent. Just-Just give it to me," Reno growled, the man probably becoming impatient with the ex-Turk's non-compliance and the idea of failing his objective. 

Then, out of nowhere, their eyes still locked, Barret shook his head harder with a huff of laughter. "Fuck it all to hell. You better know what you're doin'." 

Tifa whipped her head to stare wide-eyed at Barret before the large man grabbed Reno's hand and shoved the syringe right into his stomach. Quick acting, the redhead's pulse already racing, the man was down in a second, paralyzed. In the next moment, Rude stormed Tifa, grabbing her arm. She twirled around and punched the man several times in the chest and stomach while his other arm swung out and managed to jab her in her leg, Tifa probably not realizing he'd had it. She fell on top of him, her forward momentum keeping her going, both of them ending up in tangle of legs and arms. 

When Vincent merely stood there, not quite believing what the other gunman had done, Barret blurted out, "Get the hell outta here, Turk, before I realize how stupid this is and take you down myself!" 

Vincent didn't need any more motivation. He dashed for the front door. A bloodied Rude managed to shove Tifa off and grab at Vincent's leg as he ran past him. When Vincent kept running as if nothing had touched him, it proved to be a worthless move, but the Turk was clearly desperate. 

Calling after him, Rude hollered, "Don't do this!" 

"Like I have a choice," Vincent said to the open air, digging into his pocket, tossing his cellphone onto the street, and slamming a boot into it, killing their ability to track him. He'd have to buy another one that wouldn't be attached to his name. He leapt up to the top of the building across the street, wasting no time in jumping from building to building. 

Right away, he wished it wasn't daytime when he heard a helicopter closing in from above. Something pinged on the roof, then again, right before he jumped down to take to the streets to hopefully lose it there, because they were actually shooting at him. 

Vincent morphed his body, taking on a demonic form that was more like pure motion than physicality, moving with blazing speeds a normal human would have been incapable of, zigzagging until he'd come to the outskirts of the city and to the ruins of Midgar. 

By then, helicopter was distant, searching, but he knew he was out of danger for the time being. Exhausted, he forced his body to retake shape. Exhausted because that particular demon, one he'd discovered inside of himself only recently, one that had apparently always hidden from him before that discovery, sapped all of his strength and quickly. A man wasn't supposed to have such things inside of himself. 

Then, he dashed into the dilapidated city, losing himself amongst the rubble. When Edge was a blotch on the horizon, he skidded to a halt and looked back to what he had lost. 

As he stood there, he knew then that he couldn't leave it behind, at least not yet. Tifa had said someone there knew how to open materia. Although he had an ideas which department might have been working on that since he had occasionally worked inside of the WRO building, he nonetheless had to find out for certain who it was, where they were, and most importantly, what exactly they knew. But for now, he needed to wait until nightfall before he attempted to reenter the city. With any luck, it'd be the last thing they'd expect him to do. 

There was only one thing to do for the time being: Call Sephiroth back out. He dreaded doing it as much as he had the day before, but now for a much wider range of reasons. 

For nearly an hour, he couldn't do it. He paced back and forth, debating everything, always coming back to the same conclusion that wouldn't allow him to return home.

But, he also knew, the longer he forced Sephiroth to remain inside the materia, the worse their reunion would be.

Gathering his courage, he took it out of his pocket. His hand trembled, annoying him, as he held it up in front of him to stare at it. Was he truly the person who should be doing this? If he could admit it to himself, he would have said no, but he just couldn't do it. He just couldn't give this up. Not yet. If ever. 

...Not when this person, this madman and murderer whom Vincent had loved since Sephiroth was a baby, was the only other one in this world who couldn't die. This man was his only chance to... 

Recognizing his own utter selfishness and hating himself for it, Vincent dropped his bag next to him and then plopped none-too-gently on the rubble-ridden ground, clutching the orb. The ball looked so innocent, unspeaking of the horrors inside, namely a Sephiroth who probably wanted to chop his ass up. 

The man blew out a breath, closed his eyes with a swallow, and then summoned the man within. When Sephiroth formed in front of him, the first thing Sephiroth did was find him, which wasn't difficult considering Sephiroth faced Vincent, only a few feet of distance separating them. 

Vincent had expected the world to come down on him with one foul swoop from Sephiroth. Oddly enough, Sephiroth honestly didn't seem particularly pissed off. In fact... 

Long silver hair swung about, the swordsman probably trying to figure out where they were. When he caught sight of Edge towards the horizon behind him, he turned back around and looked down at Vincent again. 

When the other man merely stared at him, Vincent muttered, "You're not going to say anything?" Or even try to kill him, for that matter? 

"What is there to say? If it was to my advantage, I would have done the same." Sephiroth eyed him for a moment, then started with softer voice, "Are you..." 

Vincent didn't want to think it, didn't feel he could trust the notion, but something inside of him swore that what he sensed from the man was fear and not selfish fear. Either way, the thought heated him. He shook his head, smiling a weak smile he couldn't stop completely. "I'm fine." 

Sephiroth gave him one final look over before turning away. "Good. If anyone's going to torture you to death, it's going to be me." 

The words heated Vincent even more, certainly far more than they should have, and because, underneath the reality of them, Sephiroth didn't seem to truly mean them. Under his breath, Vincent said, "I wouldn't have it any other way." 

"But next time..." 

Knowing what Sephiroth was getting at, the gunman shook his head. "If you showed any aggression right now, the world would beat us both down until we're begging for death." 

Sephiroth stood still for many moments, clearly digesting the thought. Finally, he shook his head with a short-lived chuckle, looking to the distance. "You know... With all the time in the world to think inside there, I've come to realize something.... I remember when... The world doesn't need nor want me anymore, does it? Did it ever?" 

"Sephiroth... I'm sure you know the answer to that." Vincent stared at Sephiroth, genuinely startled by the things he was saying. It gave him so much hope that he could barely contain it inside of himself. To try to still himself, Vincent blew out a shallow breath and answered him back with, "But if it makes you feel better, the world doesn't really _need_ any of us. We're just passengers on a train. Eventually we'll get to our destination. Until then, well, it can be a hell of a ride." 

The words paraphrased one of Barret's favorite and often spoken quotes. And, reminded of the man, well, more like it was probably his subconscious at work. Suddenly, Vincent feared for his friend's fate. Knowing the Turks, it could be an unsavory one even though Barret didn't actually know anything, and hopefully they understood that. But, nonetheless, Barret's fate was surely not a death sentence. 

Crimson eyes looked to the sky. It was still around ten hours until nightfall. 

After another sigh that somehow managed to work his muscles into knots, that spoke outwardly only vaguely of all of the things that'd happened in the last hour, Vincent retold the events to Sephiroth, informing him as to the situation they were in. 

"...There may be someone in Edge who can destroy the materia and perhaps free you, but we have to find out who they are first." 

Sephiroth watched him carefully, making it difficult for Vincent to breathe. "And that's what you want to do? Free me?" 

No, he didn't. 

But he wasn't about to admit that when he'd then also have to explain why. 

Avoiding the question, because he didn't want to answer it with the truth, Vincent asked right back, "Do you want to stay in there?" 

When Sephiroth didn't answer right away, Vincent became confused. Surely the man would want out of it, if given the chance. Then, Sephiroth almost whispered, "If I leave the materia, if I do survive the destruction of it, then the only thing left for me is to reenter the Lifestream." 

"You fear death?" 

Sephiroth smirked, staying quieting for a few seconds, before admitting, "I've died many times. I know what it's like. No, death doesn't scare me. But..." 

Sephiroth looked back down at Vincent, eyeing him, making the gunman uncomfortable because he didn't know what was going on in Sephiroth's head. 

But, to even hear Sephiroth talk _this_ much... Vincent relished in it, despite how it got him all riled up, even the bad things inside of him. Plus, he couldn't help but be astounded that Sephiroth would bother to converse with someone. With honesty and even sanity. And especially with him. 

Finally, Vincent couldn't stand the silence any longer, wanting to know what the other man was thinking. "But what?" 

"It would take me a year to try to explain it." 

"Well, we have at least nine hours. That is, if you'd like to find the person they're talking about. We have nothing else to do." Although... Vincent could actually think of at least one other thing to do. 

God, to be twenty-seven forever... 

Sephiroth frowned at Vincent, eyeing him even harder, making Vincent harder, seeming to realize exactly all the things Vincent wanted. But then in an apparent degrading dismissal of Vincent, Sephiroth turned around and walked a short distance away, saying, "Well... This isn't a life, is it?" 

That was a copout if Vincent had ever heard one. 

In face of the dismissal, suddenly embarrassed to be practically sprawled out on the ground, the older man stood up with a gratefulness that his dick hadn't fully flagged. After a few moments to calm the stubborn thing back down, when Sephiroth did nothing more, Vincent walked up to the summon to stand next to him. He watched the other man for a second, before he offered with complete honesty, "Sephiroth... I'll do this for as long as it takes. If that's what you want." It was what Vincent wanted. 

Sephiroth huffed at the words. "You truly think you could do that? For what? Eternity?" He paused to look over the gunman who, yes, hadn't aged a day in thirty-two years, who, if one wanted to look at it critically, was nearly the same age as Sephiroth, if one discounted Vincent's thirty years in a coffin where he'd done nothing but relive his regrets over and over and over again in his nightmares. Then Sephiroth looked back to the horizon, searching the expanse of it. "What you feel for me... It's not real, Valentine. Trust me, I know what it's like to think you're in love." 

"Sephiroth..." Even now, with the other man being so absurdly candid, Vincent still couldn't say his thoughts, his emotions out loud, not when it came to this. Considering the last time he'd tried it though, and with this man's mother, it shouldn't have been surprising to anyone that he couldn't speak, not when it had all ended so badly before, creating deep scars in his very being, never mind his body. 

The swordsman glanced at him again before he started with, "In the lifestream, with so much death and then inevitable release around me, well, besides my own. As you've probably noticed, I can't die, not like everyone else." He shook his head, looking to the ground. "Everything, what I'd done and wanted to do... for my mother... It all made sense to me because, for once, I'd thought that I'd found the truth. And everything else was a lie, a rouse to control me, and not truly real. She made me certain that I was meant to be so much more. It became so easy to forget the life I'd had.... But... I remember things now..." The man crossed his arms, practically hugging himself. "Lucrecia, that was her name, wasn't it? I know she's the pregnant woman I saw in your mind. I remember her name now, from the notes I read in the Shin-Ra mansion in Nibelheim." 

Gritting his teeth, it took a moment before Vincent could admit, "Yes, that was her name." 

"And she..." Sephiroth's whole body stiffened. "And Hojo..." Vincent felt a sudden pulse of power he had to stifle. But before he could, a dark storm already started swirling above them. "It's him, it's always been him... He's my father, isn't he? ...And you killed him. The man is lucky he's dead." 

Unable to deny any of it because it was all true, Vincent asked, "You saw these things in my mind?" 

"Yes. And I was able to piece together everything else while I was in there. Not that I was given much choice." 

Vincent swallowed, shame and regret flooding him. Truly, how much had Sephiroth seen exactly? 

Sephiroth looked at him, smirking slightly. "You're in my head, whether I like it or not, Valentine. It's hell." 

Vincent couldn't help but burst out with a bit of bitter laughter. "Yeah, welcome to my world." 

Sephiroth's smile broadened. He turned, facing the older man. Vincent stood still, his body still facing Edge, but he held the other man's gaze. He was scared to move, scared of changing the man's mind about being so close. "Would it matter to you, to anyone, if I apologized?" 

Looking forward, his breath already heavy, Vincent barely managed, "For what?" 

"For far too many things." 

"You have no reason to ask for my forgiveness, Sephiroth. But I can't speak for anyone else." 

Now silent, Sephiroth continued his blatant stare. Vincent, on the other hand, paralyzed, still looking towards Edge, had no clue what to do. At least nothing rational. Irrationally, he was slapping everyone in the face by wanting this man's mouth on his own. And so much more. 

Behind them, rocks thudded and then dropped onto the ground in a small spray. Vincent whipped around and saw Cloud standing there. The young man was looking at both of them, his eyes shifting between them, his face hard, unrevealing of anything he might have been feeling, a phone loosely gripped in his hand. But, his sword was still on his back. 

Vincent took a step forward. "Didn't take you long." 

"Yeah, luckily, I didn't have to stop for gas." At that point, after pocketing his phone, Cloud only had eyes for Sephiroth but he didn't move closer. And, at that point, besides turning his body the rest of the way to face Cloud, Sephiroth hadn't advanced in the least either. Then clear blue eyes shifted to Vincent again, giving him a blatant look over. "You have a tracking device somewhere on you. You might want to remove it." 

Vincent realized then why they'd been shooting at him. The only logical place for a tracking device was his cape since he'd never felt anything hit him. ...And why had he even started wearing one anyway? It was usually more trouble than it was worth. 

Vincent wasted no time in removing his rifle and whipping off his cape. It took nearly a minute to find the thing on the lower end of the dusty crimson material. He ripped it off, making a nice little hole, and then tossed it to the ground, not bothering to destroy it. When they started moving, it was better for them to think he was still at this spot. 

After Vincent flung the thick cloth back over his shoulders, Cloud continued with, "They've arrested Barret for helping you. Tifa's lucky Rude has a soft spot for her. They're calling her attack self-defense, and that's what it was, obviously." He shrugged before looking directly at Sephiroth. "But anything can be twisted around for a purpose." 

Bringing to the forefront the actual conversation Cloud surely wanted to have, Vincent stated, "I'm not giving you the materia. Just let me walk away, Cloud." 

The pain that appeared on Cloud's face when he stared back was almost enough to give Vincent second thoughts. "Why are you doing this, Vincent?" Blonde spikes swung with the quick shake of his head. "Whatever he's told you, it's all lies. That is _not_ Sephiroth. That hasn't been Sephiroth for years. That thing doesn't even know what the meaning of truth is." 

"Weeks ago, I agreed with every word you're saying. And that's why I helped you. We had no choice but to kill him. Again. But, today, please just believe me when I say that's no longer true." 

Cloud's pained expression fell back on Sephiroth for a brief moment. "You had him at our dinner table, Vincent. Why would the hell you do that? Risk their lives like that?!" The pain turned into hateful agony for Vincent alone. "If you'd let him hurt them, Vincent, I swear I would have..." 

"I wouldn't have stopped you." And he wouldn't have. Vincent would have deserved death. 

The blonde man shook his head much more harshly, his eyes closing tight. "You're asking too much, Vincent. Even if he's changed..." Suddenly, Cloud turned around, stalking away, hand gripping repeatedly, and Vincent feared he finally might draw his sword. But, just as abruptly, the younger man turned around. This time the man's glower had melted into a mere frown. "But you can control him, right? You're controlling him right now?" 

"I can, if I must, but no. He's standing by his own free will." 

The swordsman eyed the other swordsman again with dire scrutiny. Vincent was left to wonder what Sephiroth was doing, what his expression was, because Sephiroth was behind him, beyond his eyesight. However, since he heard nothing behind him and Cloud didn't advance on him, he prayed Sephiroth _was_ indeed controlling himself. 

When nothing happened, to press the matter so that it could be dealt with in one way or another, Vincent repeated, "I'm not giving you the materia." 

Cloud looked utterly confused and barely containing himself when he asked again, "Why, Vincent? Why are you doing this? I'm seriously trying to understand you." 

"For so many reasons." And that was so true. And one main reason came to the forefront of his mind because he wasn't about to admit some of the others. "Because I promised his mother that I would make this right." 

"How... How the hell is _this_ making things right?!" 

"Well, killing him obviously hasn't work well for us. So, I'm trying this." 

Cloud huffed, a pained sound. "You can't be serious." 

Vincent smirked at life's irony, unable to help it because it was better than being savage. He knew how Cloud saw all of this and understood why. Truly he did. But that didn't change what he wanted, nor what he knew must be done, at least in his own little world. "Unfortunately, Cloud, I'm really fucking serious." 

And the unspoken words were, of course, _'Decide which side you're on, Cloud.'_ As if that was really in question.


End file.
